Lucky Dog

One day in 1994, a mangy little Benjie look-alike wandered into my yard. She was filthy, and wearing a very tight collar, but had no tags. She crawled up to me and just sat at my feet, waiting.

I gave her a bath, and acres of dirt went down the drain. A vet estimated her age at around six months; we have no idea how long she was living on the streets. I named her "Lucky," because she had chosen a human who was incapable of turning her away, or taking her to the Humane Society.

Since I already had a neurotic one-woman dog, I persuaded my sister that Lucky was just the dog for her. And they lived happily together for three years or so. Lucky readily adapted to the births of my nieces, hovering near them protectively. When my sister went to live overseas for a year, she asked my parents to keep Lucky for her. They agreed... and they knew almost immediately that they would not be giving her back.

Lucky Lou lucked out again, choosing two retired humans who were only too happy to spoil and indulge her. My parents have her groomed regularly, and the transformation is remarkable, from mangy mutt to stylish Scottie-mix. Whenever my parents traveled, she stayed with me. During the half-dozen or so trips here to help me when I was sick, Lucky came along. So of course, I feel like Lucky's godmother. She has been a loving, loyal companion for another dozen years. Other than being a little barky, she is very gentle and sweet. Like Ms. Garbo, she just vants to be left alone, but she is fairly tolerant of the four other grand-dogs who occasionally invade her sanctum.

Lucky is probably about 16 years old now; 112 in doggy years! She's nearly blind, selectively deaf, somewhat arthritic, and occasionally a bit incontinent. But she is still very sweet and good-natured. There is a dog in my neighborhood who looks as if she could be Lucky's litter-mate -- and she's 19 years old! -- so I really hope Lucky has another good 3-4 years. After all this time, I think maybe we have been the lucky ones.